


Expired Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwiches

by psychologicalBantering



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Ancestors, Developing Relationship, Drinking, Drinking to Cope, Humanstuck, Multi, Past Relationship(s), Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-23 21:02:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1579466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychologicalBantering/pseuds/psychologicalBantering
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summi Nitram just wanted to live his life in near-poverty as a lower-class artist while peacefully hating the rich chief of police, G.H. Makara. The love of his life Marquise is missing for three months and counting as everything begins going downhill, but will Summi find a silver lining in the thing he hates most?</p><p>And will his silver lining be the death of him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pompous People Anonymous

**Author's Note:**

> This is GHB/Summoner, I swear.

Let’s face it, G.H. knew it was going to be a bad day when someone knocked on his door and invited himself in.

“Yo son, you got a package. It’s me.” The unwelcomed person slammed the door closed, rattling the door frame that cost him way more than it should have.

“Careful, you filthy creature! That costs more than your life!” he growled, turning from the stove where he was making an overly-extravagant dinner for one.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure your door means a lot to you. I’m sure you cuddle to it at nights. Seriously, this house is enough for a family of twenty and you live here alone. That’s really fu-” but he was cut off.

“There will be _no_ foul language in this house other than my own, ‘ _Summi,_ ’” he said in a whiny tone. “Seriously, what kind of name is Summi? Aren’t you fucking embarrassed to be alive with that name?”

“Aren’t you embarrassed to be alive with that _face_!?” Summi countered.

G.H. raised an eyebrow at the almost childish retaliation. He rolled his eyes. “Yes, very clever, you filthy excuse for a human. Why are you even here? Have you come to just make fun of me with lame, childish puns?” G.H. eyed himself in a nearby mirror, fixing the make-up on his face.

“Yes, I have come to make fun of your makeup covered pompous face and shaggy, spider-infested hair. Seriously? You look like you were rejected from _KISS_ ,” Summi said, adjusting the piercing in his nose.

“Hey, I could _buy_ _KISS_ if I wanted to. And who are you to talk, you look like a motherfucking character from one of your weird hipster bands!” G.H. pointed to his numerous piercings.

“Don’t you _dare_ call my bands _hipster_ ,” Summi growled, meaning business. G.H. shrugged with a sly grin. “No, I came here to get my phone back. I know you have it and have been sending texts to everyone,” Summi threw him an annoyed glare from where he stood, a few feet away from the doorway.

“Now why would I resort to something so utterly _childish_? Who’s to say it’s not one of your other filthy friends?” G.H. smiled, knowing fully well where the phone was.

“Because no one else would send Suff a ten-page hate message through my phone. And he knows full well I would never call anyone a filthy human, by the way,” Summi held out his hand for his phone. G.H. rolled his eyes and walked over sluggishly, slapping the phone into his hate-friend’s hand reluctantly.

Summi quickly swiped the phone and his hand away so G.H. could not attempt to steal it back. “Why do you even call us filthy humans, you’re a human too, ya’ know,” Summi said, sending apology texts to everyone. “I may be a human, but I have a high and privileged life in fame and fortune, holding a wonderful job of enforcing the law, while you simply didn’t make the cut by your many flaws,” G.H. shrugged.

“Yea, I’m sure your legions of haters think you’re _flawless_ ,” Summi said, the sarcasm thick in his tone. “I wouldn’t be able to _stand_ living in the high life. Too many rich, self-centered people involved.”

“Yes, like your rugged life is _so_ much better. I couldn’t stand being in your place for a _minute_ , too much stupidity,” the face covered in make-up cringed at the thought.

“Hey, my life is perfectly fine! There’s no stupidity involved, what you’re referring to is a little thing called ‘fun’, not that you would know what that is!” Summi growled, glaring deep into G.H.’s oddly indigo eyes with his own strange amber ones.

“I know full well what fun is, and just because we’re rich doesn’t mean we don’t know how to enjoy ourselves!” G.H. growled and glared right back. A smile slowly made it’s way to Summi’s face.

“Okay then, how about a challenge? I have a ticket to a high-class dinner party that’s scheduled for tonight that I won in a bet with Dis. Next Wednesday, the guys and I are having a bonfire-slash-water balloon war. I’ll attend the party and you’ll attend the bonfire, and we’ll see whose life is better. Loser has to eat an expired peanut butter and jelly sandwich, moldy bread included. Deal?” Summi held out a hand covered in pen ink where he’d drawn on himself. G.H. wrinkled his nose at the hand, but shook anyways. “Deal, now get out you filthy creature, I have a luncheon to eat.” He turned, wiping his hand on his pants. Summi rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Seeya loser,” and left, slamming the door again, earning an annoyed yell from G.H.

* * *

 “Oh Christ, this will be mind-bogglingly boring,” Summi said with a groan, dragging out the ‘o’ in his sentence. Dissy looked at him. “Aw, come on, you won the ticket from me fair and square, you might as well try to enjoy yourself here!” she squeaked.

“But I’m gonna be the only low-class here. I’m just the poor kid from the ‘hood to these suckers!” he whined, actually stamping his foot like a four year-old.

“Do you want to make a scene and risk further taunting from these asshats?” she said with an unamused look.

“... No,” he pouted and entered the building reluctantly.

As soon as he entered, there were surprised whispers among the high-classed dressy jerks. Some chatted about how he got a ticket, others joked about how he had managed to find a suit that wasn’t directly out of the garbage. He ignored them. His red and black striped hair, normally pushed back, was straightened and covered his bright amber eyes. He did a hair flip and his bangs obeyed, giving him a hot punk look that made some middle-class girls shut up.

Though one eye managed to remain covered, the other glowed, surveying the room with disgusted judgement. He had taken the piercing out of his nose, but the ones in his ears remained. A full-blown orchestra was playing Beethoven and Mozart, while men and women dressed to the nines in the fanciest of coats and shirts and dresses ate little British finger sandwiches and drank imported, aged Italian wine in tall, thin glasses.This could have been very well confused for a meeting of Pompous People Anonymous.

Everywhere, snobby people laughed nasally at things that were nowhere near funny by Summi’s standards. He looked for any sign of normality, for something that showed they weren’t all mean and self-centered. Then he found it. Across the room, a girl in a thin dress, definitely not the fanciest, but beautiful nonetheless, sneezed, crossing her arms. The boy next to her, one of the ones in a million-dollar suit, seemed to notice his freezing friend and offered her his very expensive jacket, which she slipped on gratefully, her face a soft pink blush. He kissed her head sweetly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Summi smiled, remembering the one thing that made his heart ache more than anything.

He sensed a presence behind him, smirking. “I see you’ve arrived.” G.H. grunted and followed his gaze. He threw Summi a questioning glance, then the couple, then Summi. He shrugged. “Yes, after all I help set this thing up. So how many garbage cans did you have to dig through—” he was stopped short as the shorter of them turned around, revealing a very classy suit, more expensive than what he expected the trashy human could even afford. Summi threw him a half-hearted glare from under his straightened hair, emotions a bit riled at the sight of the couple. “Ha, ha, nice one G.H.,” he sneered, his freckles wrinkling up. For some reason, the sight of this clean, pressed, handsome Summi sent something whirring in G.H.’s mind, his heart reacting by beating in an odd pattern, skipping a beat somewhere. His face heated up a bit, involuntarily.

Summi raised an eyebrow at the pink that had so quickly adorned his hate-friend’s face at the sight of him. To test the theory he was developing, he looked straight into G.H.’s eyes, fixing his own like he was staring into the other’s soul. G.H. stared back, weakening under those amber eyes he had spent night after night hating. However, now he looked at these familiar pools of light, entranced. By staring though, he managed to get his mind back on track and his blush faded, though not completely as he straightened his tie and cleared his throat, regaining his composure. Summi blinked, breaking the invisible bond. Oddly enough, he felt a bit let down, even though he hated this guy towering over him with his entire being… didn’t he?

While their staring contest was taking place, they had also captured the attention of pretty much _everyone_ in the room, a low-class having a stare down with one of the highest class people in the room. People whispered among each other, having seen the tall high-class blushing. Relationships between the high and low classes were unheard of. Especially ones between two men. They talked of the rage between the two highest class members if this turned into a real thing.

Summi stood straight, smoothing out his tux and looking at the floor, then cast a quick glance back up at G.H. He had washed his makeup off, and had tried to straighten his long, shaggy hair to no avail. Never the less, the somewhat-smooth raven black hair was tied with a satin purple ribbon, not tied in a bow. Summi, having never seen G.H. without his makeup, was surprised at how tan he was and how… handsome he looked. His cool eyes mixed with the warm tan colour of his skin, creating a look that made him appear that much more entrancing. Summi looked away before his face could flush. What the hell was he doing thinking about guys like this? No homo, no homo, no homo.

Dissy chose now as a good time to step in. “C’mon Summi, time to sit and chat. You too G.H.,” she motioned, grabbing Summi by the arm. She pulled them over to a table full of high and mid-class familiars. This included the two highest class people in the room before G.H.

“What is _that_ doing here?!” said the highest class person, a cruel woman known only as ‘Her Majesty’. She wrinkled her nose and pointed to Summi like he was a dead raccoon carcass pulled off the road. The next highest, a man with rigid scars run across his face known only as Dualscar, grunted in agreement.

“Summi won a ticket on a bet from me. I would appreciate it if you would treat him with respect,” Dissy announced. Though they hated the lower class, everyone at the table knew Summi and his low class friends’ names. They had all known each other since probably kindergarten or the first grade, before class mattered. Some of them were even friends. Summi was friends with G.H. for several years even, until he learned about the classes. It was actually pretty pitiful if they compared how it was then to how it was now.

A man known as Lear, or sometimes ‘Dark Leer”, sniffed his distaste. A woman called ‘Red’ Claire, smiled though. “Of course, it’s only justified to treat each other with equal respect. Nice to see you again Summi!” the middle class woman held out her hand. Summi grinned and shook her hand graciously. She was one of the few here who still had their senses about them. “It is very nice to see you too, Claire. You seem well,” he said, making polite conversation. “Yes, and how do you fare?” Claire grinned. Summi cleared his throat.

“I am doing positively excellent, my dear Claire. I have had good fortune on my sullied life and it appears my luck might be taking a turn for the better, mysterious as it is. I do hope that you and all of your companions have had as equal joy and frivolous merriment when needed and requested, as I likewise have had these past many hours to milliseconds.” He stood straight, one arm behind him and one straightening his tie, the sparkles almost were visible around him, and high classes looked at him with raised eyebrows, the nearby onlookers with dangling jaws.

“Well! I did not know it was possible for one of _your_ class level to say such words of sophistication in an understandable form. I must say I am _very_ surprised,” Her Majesty said with a lewd grin. Summi nodded. “Now, may I kindly request a place to sit?” he gestured to the rounded, velvet booth half-circle in which everyone sat. Everyone scooted over a little, opening up a reasonable amount of space for him to sit. He sat down silently, the others still staring at him in amazement. G.H. cleared his throat, and a place was immediately opened next to Summi. He sat down, not as impressed with Summi’s vocabulary, glaring at the shorter man.

The high and middle classes chatted together, ignoring the low class. While they talked, Summi noticed that there was someone missing from the table who should’ve been there. A Miss Marquise. Summi shook his head, a dull pain resounding in his heart. He sat, wondering where she could have gone. They had been together for a while, him loving her with all his heart while she merely went along with it. Just before she went missing, mere hours really, she had broken it off, leaving him heartbroken and forced to see her face on MISSING posters and ads everywhere, haunting him.

“Summi? Earth to Summi?” Dissy tapped his head, bringing him out of his saddened stupor. “Ah, yes Dissy? What is it?” he said, doing another head flip to rid the stray hairs that had collected over his good eye. “Majesty wants to know if you’re hungry or thirsty,” she grinned. “Oh, no, I’m afraid I need not for refined delicacies. I hunger not for food or drink, so I will pass,” he held up a hand. Dissy nodded, knowing that he was thinking of her. He went back to his thoughts, escaping from this world and the prestigious and pompous environment he was trapped in.

He thought back to the one thing he and her had ever fully related to, where they laughed together and behaved like lunatics like they should. A _Fall Out Boy_ song, “America’s Suitehearts,” to be exact. He had referred to it as their song, and she actually seemed to happily agree to that. Subconsciously, he started singing it, eyes closed in thought. “Let’s hear it for America’s Suitehearts! I must confess; I’m in love with my own sins,” he went on, almost completing the song before he realized what he was doing. His eyes shot open and he looked around. He had been singing so loud, even the band stopped playing. “ _That_ is the music your class listens to?” Her Majesty asked, not trying to be judgemental, just curious. “Uh… some of us… _I_ listen to it…” his face burned slightly in embarrassment.

“Hm… not as horrible as I expected. Not that bad, really. What do you call this music?” she asked, curious. Summi’s face went blank.

“You’ve never heard rock music?!” he said, exasperated.

“What is this… ‘rock music’ you talk about?” She cocked her head.

He had known it was bad, but not _this_ bad. “Rock is the life and blood of the music industry!” he almost yelled, shocked beyond belief.

“Oh really? Then why don’t you show us this music you praise so much?” Dualscar sneered, not so impressed.

“Okay I will! Pardon me G.H., may I please ask you to allow me to exit this booth?” Summi said, in a hurry to get out and teach these people about real music. He grunted and stood, allowing Summi to slip out. He ran to the amps with his iPhone.

“No _ICP_!” G.H. shouted after him, being probably one of the only people who knew any rock music. The members of the table eyed him curiously, and he cleared his throat and went back to his cold poker face.

Summi managed to connect the amp to his phone with little problems with the white noise, and scrolled through his hundreds of songs he had. He selected one, sitting in a chair and tipping it on it’s back two legs, swinging his feet as the song started up.

 

_“She says she’s no good with words but I’m worse._

_Barely stuttered out a joke of a romantic, stuck to my tongue._

_Weighed down with words, too_

_Over-dramatic_

_Tonight it’s “It can’t get much worse” vs._

_“No one should ever feel like”!_

_I’m two quarters and a heart down,_

_And I don’t wanna forget how your voice sounds._

_These words are all I have so I write them,_

_I need them just to get by!”_

 

Summi leapt out of his chair and sung along to the chorus, strumming an air guitar. “Dance, dance! We’re falling apart to half time! Dance, dance! These are the lives you love to lead. Dance, this is the way they’d love if they knew how misery loved me!” A considerable group of middle and even some high-class girls had gathered around the stage, and some shrieked happily when he did a dramatic hair flip, _ooh_ ing and _aah_ ing from the group.

Dissy cheered and Claire clapped in time, while a previously unmentioned Dolorosa sat, still deciding what she thought of this kind of music. Lear sat with his ultimate poker face, while Dualscar curled his lip in distaste. Her Majesty, however, bobbed her head in rhythm. G.H. tapped his foot to the beat, the song familiar to him. He had heard it on more than one occasion when he was pestering Summi or vice versa. He hummed, his voice of gravel bumping harshly over the notes, a small smile plastered on his face. Dissy watched him with amusement.

Summi put his music on shuffle and returned to the table, swiping a sleeve across his forehead. “I am going to retrieve a beverage to quench this unholy thirst, is there anything I can get for any of you while I’m there?” he offered politely. It was met with a chorus of “no’s” from everyone except for a conspiring Dissy. “Get me two glasses of wine, the bigger glasses that hold more wine and have the wide rims,” she motioned with her hands so he would get the point. He stared at her, having not taken her to be a drinker.

Apparently this was not usual for her though, as everyone else at the table looked at her curiously as well. She shrugged, a sly smile spread over her lips. “The wine here is good, what can I say?” she grinned, casting a conniving look at G.H., who knew that scheming look all too well. She only got that look when she played Cupid, putting people together in hopes they would fall for each other. More often than not, it worked. But who could she be pairing…? Sudden realization hit him and he hoped he was wrong.

In a short while, Summi returned with the two large glasses and a thin one for himself. G.H. stood up before Summi could even ask, taking one of the larger glasses from him before he could spill it on anybody. Summi nodded gratefully and resumed his place at the table, passing one of the large glasses of deep burgundy liquid to her as he scooted over so G.H. could sit again. As soon as he did, Summi plucked the glass out of his huge hands, at least in comparison to Summi’s tiny ones, and handed that one over to Dissy as well. G.H had felt Summi’s hand brush his own only briefly, but at first he mistook it for a feather or the silk cuff of his jacket. His tiny hands were incredibly soft.  G.H. looked at them and had a sudden urge to hold them and intertwine their fingers as if they didn’t despise each other’s guts, as lonely people often feel. That’s what he told himself anyways, it was just the bitter sting of loneliness making him act and think strangely.

Dissy waited a while before putting her plan into action, taking occasional sips from one of the wine glasses so she didn’t look suspicious. “Hey G.H., I bet you can’t bounce a table tennis ball into this wine glass from where you’re sitting,” she challenged. Summi raised an eyebrow at this substitution for beer pong, wondering what his friend was getting at by this challenge.

“What kind of challenge is that, it’s far too easy to fail for sure. Are you actually putting up a bet by issuing this challenge to me?” G.H. laughed in merriment instead of cruelty, a booming sound not unlike a heavy dubstep bass. Summi quickly decided he liked this sound, though he wasn’t too sure why.

“Of course! You win, you get an hour of any music of your choice. I win…” the smile returned, “... you have to have a romantic slow-dance with Summi.” Summi nearly spit wine all over the fancy tablecloth in the spit-take of the century. “ _What_!?!” they both said in unison, making everyone chuckle a little bit and quickly see where Dissy was going with this, making eyebrows raise and eyes narrow, all accompanied by all-knowing grins.

But G.H. was confident of his ability to do this. “Okay, I accept your challenge,” and they shook on it. He got up and retrieved one of the many ping-pong balls from the small course set up in the room. He leaned back aiming and launched-- missing the target by a long shot. His jaw dropped and Summi turned on him. “Seriously?! You missed a target _that_ easily?!” he said, horrified at the thought of slow-dancing with this guy.

“It’s not as easy as it looks!” G.H. growled.

“Okay, Summi, if you can get the ball in the cup, you don’t have to dance with him. But if you don’t… pick a long, sweet song!” she taunted.

“You’re on!” he said, fishing the ball from where it landed. Dissy put the cup a fair distance away and he aimed and launched—only to have it bounce off the rim.

Summi and G.H. glared at the evil cup and got up without a word, knowing there was no argument over this. Luckily, they wouldn't be the only couples slow dancing. Somewhere the shuffle had gotten into the slower songs and couples were swaying together on the dance floor. Summi went to his iPhone and went through his list of songs, picking one out that he liked, not really caring if G.H. would like it or not.

The song, a male acoustic of the original, was barely three minutes; definitely not a long song, but it was bad enough dancing with this rich fool as it was, he wasn't going to try to drag that out longer than needed. He set the phone down and hopped off the stage as he waited for it to get to the actual song that proceeded after a few seconds of silence, enough time for him to meet with G.H. and have them get into an awkward slow dancing position; meaning Summi having to reach his arms around G.H.’s neck and G.H. wrapping his arms around Summi’s waist. They stood as far apart from each other as possible, blushing profusely and refusing to look each other in the eyes.

 

_“I still hear your voice when you sleep next to me._

_I still feel your touch in my dreams._

_Forgive me my weakness, But I don’t know why_

_Without you it’s hard to survive…_

_'_ _Cause every time we touch, I get this feeling_

_Every time_ _we kiss, I swear I can fly._

_Can’t you feel my heart beat fast?_

_I want this to last.”_

 

“ _I need you by my side..._ ” Summi mumbled the last line, looking down and blushing brighter than ever. G.H. thought he was hearing things, but blushed nonetheless, knowing he could never mistake anything for Summi’s milky singing voice that ran so smoothly over notes, where as G.H.’s rocky voice tripped over them with difficulty. Honestly if he were to think about it long enough, he would start to realize just how wonderful the low-classed human’s voice was. If he continued to dwell on it, he would become infatuated with it, thinking Summi had the voice of an angel. Unfortunately, that would take a lot of dwelling, and he chose not to dwell on it for more than a few seconds.

“What was that, idiot?” he growled, no sting behind the words like usual. If anything, there was only gentle curiosity.

Summi coughed and looked at G.H.. “Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of your stupidity,” Summi returned, no fire in his words either. G.H rolled his eyes, then closed  them as they swayed. Summi did the same, the song still having another minute and a half.

As the song wound down to it’s final twenty seconds or so, G.H. opened his eyes to find that they had slowly been pulling themselves closer to one another, and that Summi was so close, his black and red hair touched G.H.’s chin. G.H. cast quick glances in all directions, then quickly bent his head and very slightly put his nose to the thin strands that were as soft as silk. He breathed in slowly, and there was an overpowering smell of cinnamon, coffee, the forest, and campfire smoke. The combination of these four scents was unearthly, and he loved it way more than a hate-friend should.

The song chose to end then, and G.H. pulled his head up quickly so that no suspicions were raised. A warm pink was dusted across Summi’s cheeks and he opened his eyes reluctantly, pulling himself out of the warm confines of the high-class man’s embrace. His entire being protested, but he had to do the right hate-friend thing and break this up. G.H. didn’t want the the warm being he had been holding to leave either, but he knew it had to happen if he didn’t want to be scorned by his friends and left by Summi, who probably wouldn’t even want to be his hate-friend anymore. Unbeknownst to him though, Summi had felt the tug of their bodies subconsciously pulling each other closer, and the nose pressed lovingly into his hair.

G.H. and Summi trudged back to their booth in awkward silence. The entire table looked on, barely suppressing their giggles, and Dissy used all her willpower to not squeal over how cute they had looked together. “So, any other bets any of you want to make?” Summi challenged tiredly, sipping at his wine. “ _I_ have a bet,” Her Majesty grinned, thoroughly enjoying playing cupid for these two. “If Summi can get the ball into _my_ wine glass from where he sits now, he may have two bottles of my finest wine brought straight from the cellar. If not, he and G.H. must dance to a seven minute slow song while holding each other close in a loving way for all to see,” she grinned.

“That’s not a fair difference!” Summi exclaimed.

“Five bottles?” she mused.

“Done,” Summi replied almost immediately.

He swiped the ball from its place at the center of the table, aiming carefully, and launched it. It rolled around the rim, tilted inward and… fell backwards into Her Majesty’s waiting hand. “G.H., I issue a similar challenge. If you win you can turn down the dance, but the price for loss is still the same,” she smiled. He thought about Summi’s scent, the warmth of his body swaying with his own, and the bitter taste of loneliness came at him in a wave. “Okay,” he said simply and retrieved the ball. He didn't even try, but he got closer than he did the first time. The two of them stood up once again without a sound, and both men cast a much softer glance at the not-so-evil cup.

Summi went to his phone again, sighing. G.H. climbed up on with him and looked over his shoulder, his breath tickling the smaller man’s ear. He tried his best to ignore it. “I don’t have any seven minute slow songs… We’ll just to have to go with a three minute one and a four minute one,” he explained and set the song list accordingly. They picked up where they left off, swaying through the two songs without a word, oblivious to their surroundings. It went from two songs, to three. Then four. Then six. Time slipped from their thoughts and they were locked in a swaying world all of their own.

A friend skipped over to Summi’s phone and shut off the music, getting the attention of the two. As they opened their eyes, they realized that they were the only ones left in the entire building, with the exception of the smirking group who still sat watching at their table. “You two danced through 10 songs. And one of them wasn't even a slow-dance song. It was a dubstep version of _Tetris_ that said the f-word every other chorus,” she smiled her ‘Cupid’s-work-is-now-done’ smile and stared down at the two, both of which still held each other in arms. Summi briefly panicked, but found a way out.

He blinked like he had been woken up from a nap and yawned, rubbing his eyes. “Hn, wha..? I seem to have fallen asleep on my feet…” he mumbled in false tiredness.

“That’s a load of bull!” Dualscar called, enjoying this little scene. Dissy still smirked, knowing he had seen him wide awake, eyes open and smiling into the fabric of the high-class’s formal military suit; as well as G.H. smiling into soft comfort of the low class man’s hair, breathing in his comforting scent. G.H. growled down at the body he held close in his arms. “You dolt! Only _true_ fools manage to fall asleep on their feet!”

Summi smirked. “Then your ankles must be tired from all that idiotic standin’ up you do when you sleep, SON!” Summi smirked. There were plenty of thoroughly amused “Oooh, oh no he didn’t!” type sounds. G.H. merely scowled and pushed the freckled man away from him, crossing his arms in an almost childish pout. “Aww, did I hurt da widdle G.H.’s feewings? Is da widdle G.H. cwanky?” Summi said, pinching G.H.’s cheek. The tall man growled and smacked his hate-friend’s hand away. “Get your filthy low-class mitts off my face!” he growled. Summi just chuckled and hopped back on stage, grabbing a mic.

“I have a little song that I want to dedicate to my _dear_ hate-friend, who I could not hate more if I tried,” his voice purposely cracked, and he pretended to rub a stray tear from his eye. He then proceeded to go to his playlist and put on a song by _P!nk_.

 

_Sometimes I hate every single stupid word you say_

_Sometimes I wanna slap you in your whole face._

_There’s no one quite like you,_

_You push all my buttons down_

_I know life would suck without you._

 

It was about this time Summi remembered that half the lyrics in this song were about loving the person, and his face immediately flushed bright red. He desperately jabbed the pause button on the phone, but it continued ruining his approach to this. He had finally got the damned thing to shut up, but not before the speakers blared out “ _True love!_ ” for the second time. He yanked the amp cord out from his phone and the white noise blared for a minute, then hummed quietly.

He merely stood, embarrassed out of his own mind, while everyone smirked at him, mocking him with their gaze. “Don’t you guys look at me with that tone of voice!” he growled. They just looked to one another and giggled, Dissy sneaking behind Summi and making hearts with her hands and putting them around his head without him noticing. Of course everyone busted a gut at this, and Summi stood confused as Dissy snuck back out from behind him before he could notice what she was doing.

“Shut up, noobs,” Summi jumped down from the stage and growled the whole way back to the table, G.H. poking his face the entire time. “Aww, is da widdle Summi upset, is he cwanky?” G.H. mocked, smiling evilly and pinching Summi’s cheeks like he had done. “Would you shut the fuck up, jeez!” Summi snapped. G.H. just roared with laughter, his voice doing that bass-drop thing again.  Summi then proceeded to flick his nose. Hard. G.H. put his hands to his nose, letting out a small, girly squeal-slash-yelp as the finger met his nose.

Summi laughed heartily and took a huge drink from the wine-pong cup, dropping the fancy act. The effects became apparent after a few more drinks, Summi being completely unable to hold his liquor. Everyone seemed thoroughly amused as Summi babbled on incoherently about drunken visions and other things, laughing wildly at some points for no apparent reason.

“An’ I always kinda wonder’d where Mar’ went...” he mumbled, looking solemn as he looked into the almost empty cup. The sudden serious topic startled the members of the table and, never having heard much about the relationship between the low-class and Marquise, they leaned in, paying close attention. “Mar ‘n’ I nev’r really hung out a lot. I don’t think we ev’n really wen’ on a date… bu’ I still loved her more than anyone. Even if she didn’t love me. She was th’ most amazin’ person in th’ world. I wonder where she ‘s now… I wonder if she thinks of me…” he mumbled, eyes closed in drunken thought, smiling at her memory. Everyone looked to one another, being the only ones who knew what happened to Marquise, then to G.H., who looked away guiltily.

Suddenly, while everyone had been distracted, Summi had focused all his thoughts on his ex, and he was filled with the overwhelming emptiness of loneliness. He sobbed quietly, dropping the glass which shattered on the floor, pulling back everyone’s attention. Dissy rubbed his back, hushing him and comforting one of her boyfriend’s closest companions. G.H. looked at Summi, stricken with grief as he saw before him just how much Summi had cared for the girl. The other members of the table slinked out quietly, motioning G.H. to have a word.

“You have to tell him!” Claire whispered frantically. “You can’t hide it from him forever! He’s going to find out, and he’ll be less upset if he finds out from you than somewhere else.”

“Are you kidding?! He hates me as it is! He will torment me for the rest of my days if he finds out that I had something to do with this!” G.H. growled back.

“I hate to say it, but the boy has grown on me, and I hate to see him in this condition. I think you should tell him. Not now, but when he’s sober. And do it soon. The longer he dwells on the thought she might still be thinking of him somewhere on Earth, the more it’s going to crush him when he learns the truth,” Her Majesty sighed.

G.H. turned his gaze to Summi, who still sat sobbing into his arms being comforted by Dissy, the wine spreading on the floor beneath him, soaking into his black dress shoes, the deep violet-red liquid filled with tiny glittering glass shards, the glass sharp and ready to puncture anything it touched. He sighed. “Even if I tell him now though, it’s been a couple months since he last heard from her... I don’t think a few days will do much difference. But I’ll tell him soon,” he sighed again and returned to his seat, looking down at the sniveling form. Back at the still-standing group they watched him as he continued to stare softly at the low-class boy.

“I think he really cares for that boy more than he wants to admit. But he’ll realize soon enough it’s easier to love someone than to hate them,” Her Majesty smiled. Claire nodded.

“I think he realizes it a little, but I think he’s afraid.”

“Him? Afraid of the boy? Ha! A burly bear of a man like him afraid of a sobbing, drunken man? What gives you such thoughts?” Dualscar smirked. Claire shrugged.

“It seems you’re falling behind on atmosphere reading, Dual. Haven’t you noticed the way he acts? It’s not to say he is scared that Summi can physically hurt him,” Dolorosa spoke up. Dualscar looked confused.

“Then what other form of fear is there?”

“He’s fearful of rejection,” Lear mumbled, earning a nod from Claire, Dolorosa, and Her Majesty. Dualscar just stared blankly at the table, not understanding the emotional aspect of what was going on really. The others just chuckled at him and they all returned to their seats.

Summi had calmed down now, resorted to deep, shaky breaths. Dissy still rubbed his back, a sad smile on her face. G.H. crossed his arms on the table and rested his head in them, looking over at his friend (do we really need the hate part anymore?) with a calm look, guilt and other such emotions swirling in his eyes, and darkening them to a deep twilight purple, though his face remained as emotionless as ever. His eyebrows knit together, as if he was debating something. After a minute, he slowly lifted his head from his arms and reached a hand out to Summi, gently setting his hand on his back in a comforting way. The ragged breathing of Summi was cut off in surprise, and Summi tensed up. After a few seconds he relaxed again, his ragged breathing returning but not as badly. G.H. put his head in his other hand, staring curiously at the man, the concept of comforting someone foreign to him. He lightly rubbed circles into Summi’s back, earning him a quiet sigh of approval.

G.H. amused himself like this for another half hour, before letting out a thundering yawn. “I believe it’s time I head home. I’ll take this mess with me I suppose,” he prodded the drunken one. “It’s time to go home, fool. Pull yourself together,” he growled. Summi’s head rolled to the side, half asleep and in no condition to be moving around. G.H. sighed, annoyed, and picked him up as if he weighed next to nothing, half slinging him over his shoulder. “Farewell friends,” he groaned, and left. They all smiled at him as he left.

“They make such a cute couple!” Dissy sighed as soon as they were out of earshot.

* * *

 

“Why did I park so far away?” G.H. said to no one in particular. “You’re starting to get heavy, chubby little…” he growled as he pulled Summi from over his shoulder and held him in his arms, bridal style. “God, I hope no one sees this…” he whispered as he finally reached his car, dumping the unconscious man in his arms gently into the passenger seat.

He drove all the way across town into the dingy, almost red-light district. Almost, but not quite. He parked in front of the apartment complex where Summi lived and tossed his military coat into the backseat, pulling on a hoodie. Rich people, especially those with his occupation, weren't exactly welcome here. He pulled his hood up and grabbed Summi, who hooked his legs sleepily around G.H., forcing him to carry him like a child. And so he did up three flights of stairs, getting the spare key out of its hiding place and unlocking his apartment and stumbling in, quietly shutting the door and making his way through the rubble strewn across the floor and setting him on his bed, flipping on the light.

“How can he stand to live like this, the pig…” he mumbled, taking in the room. It had been a while since he had last come over to bug Summi, and the place had deteriorated considerably, papers strewn everywhere, half-finished drawings and other pieces of art piled in random places. He picked up a nearby stack of half-finished artwork and flipped through them. Marquise, Marquise, Marquise, Marquise, G.H., Marquise, Mar— wait, what? He flipped back in confusion, sure he must have made an error. He hadn't.

Within the many portraits dedicated to his lost love, there lie a picture, still in the developing stage with half-darkened lines, but there was no doubt in his mind over who it was. There was nothing about it, really, just a portrait. But it was the immense thought that had obviously been put into making the lines fit perfectly together that struck him. This picture was unbelievably detailed. He wondered how Summi had gotten it so spot-on. Detail like this would take hours of staring at a person, even with a good memory. He put the drawings as they were.

He looked over at Summi, sprawled on his bed, and rolled his eyes. He picked him back up and pulled the blanket back, tucking him in properly. Seeing as how he had tucked him in and all, he had the urge to then kiss the man on the forehead. He wasn’t quite sure whether this feeling went along with that like he was tucking in a small child or if it was because it was the person he was tucking in. He shrugged off the feeling either way and left, re-hiding the key and locking the door (not in that order), leaving for his own home.


	2. In The Days That Followed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: What the fuckery and crying.

The next morning, G.H. was awoken by the echoing of his doorbell reverberating through the house. He groggily got up and walked to the door, sluggishly rubbing his eyes and yawning. On his way he glanced at the clock. 12:30 P.M. For a day off, this was awfully early to be getting visitors, especially since it was raining outside.G.H. yanked open the door. On his doorstep was the last person he expected to see, a smug smile spread across his rain-soaked face.

“Suffers T. Vantas, to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence defiling my peace?” G.H. growled.

“My girlfriend,” Suff’ replied simply, holding his beaten-up, dripping-wet iPhone for G.H. to see. He had a video pulled up that Dissy sent him, a video of a certain high-class and Summi slow dancing last night. G.H.’s jaw nearly unhinged and he groaned loudly as he continued to watch the video, focusing on Summi in particular.

“You guys look cute together. This video got over a hundred likes on Facebook. You’re practically a celebrity couple,” Suff’ grinned evilly.

“It has how many likes!?” G.H. roared.

“Let’s see… exactly 216 likes. And this video was posted only half an hour ago!” Suff’ chuckled and walked off back into the rain. “Just wanted to make you aware of your revealed sexuality. See you at the bonfire!” he mocked. G.H. growled and was about to slam the door closed before the prick interrupted him. “Oh, and try not to be cuddling and kissing with Summi the entire time!” Suff’ cackled, which was promptly met with the slam of a door.

G.H., now unable to go to back to sleep, got dressed and fixed up his makeup, wandering boredly around his house. He went and played his old Atari for a while, switching between Q*bert and Donkey Kong, but quickly got irritated with both. He then went to his library, took one step in, then walked right back out. He went to his piano room and attempted some Beethoven, but kept making mistakes, so the activity was forgotten as well. So in the end he just laid on his couch, mindlessly flipping through channels and stopping to watch SpongeBob, because really, who could pass up SpongeBob?

About an hour into his T.V.-watching, there was another knock at his door. He trudged over and opened it, only to find a one Summi Nitram, loaded down with three suitcases and other bags, all of them soaked through and through. G.H. tried to keep an annoyed atmosphere at the sight, but only pity plagued his heart.

“What’re you doing here? And what’s all this?” He motioned to the suitcases.

“I got kicked out of my apartment. I had nowhere else to go, so I came here,” Summi mumbled, looking at the ground, embarrassed. The rich man sighed and put a hand to his temple.

“Get in here, you fool.” He waved him in, grabbing two suitcases along with the other bags and brought them inside before the rain ate up every dry area on them.

Summi quickly stepped into the house, shivering from the cold rain. “God, you’re a pitiful mess aren’t you? Stay on the door mat, I’ll be back. Take your shoes and socks off and leave them by the door,” G.H. said calmly and went off into the vast spaces of the mansion. He came back a minute later with a towel and dry, warm clothes. “Change into these and dry off. Bathroom is right there,” he said, pointing to a door. Summi nodded and went to change, G.H. wiping up the trail of water as soon as the bathroom door clicked shut.

After a few minutes, Summi came out of the bathroom, bundled in the fluffy towel and oversized clothes. He walked quickly and stiffly, curling on the end of the couch opposite to G.H. and shivering violently.

“What we watchin’, loser ?” he trembled and sneezed, grunting and holding a hand to his temple. He was nursing a raging hangover, too. G.H. got up and retrieved a blanket and some ibuprofen with a glass of water and a box of tissues. He set the tissues, medicine, and water on the table and put the blanket over Summi.

“Take the damn medication idiot. Don’t you know better than to walk around in the rain like that?” he scolded. Summi stuck his tongue out at the man.

“Maybe I like walkin’ around in the rain with all my possessions!” he grumbled, but took the medication anyways.

Then SpongeBob came back on and he got sucked into the cartoon. G.H. barely suppressed a chuckle at how intently Summi was watching the cartoon, just like a child. He looked closely at Summi’s face. His hair had been shoved back quickly, but wasn’t the neat messiness it usually was. Now it was just flat-out messy. His skin seemed paler than usual and his eyes had dark circles  under them. He look tired, weak, drained, and dull, all except his eyes. Bright, glowing amber, they were like tiny suns, flames of

orange swirling and colliding, mixing together. G.H. immediately lost himself and couldn’t tear his eyes away. It startled him how lifeless the rest of him seemed but those eyes. They burned and held all the life of a person in the form of little orbs, eclipsed only by a pupil.

G.H. wasn’t exactly sure why he was becoming so entranced with his hate-friend. A few mere nights ago he held nothing but pure resentment in his black heart for the poverty-bound artist, just because he thought he was better than Summi because of his societal ranking. The aristocratic dinner party shouldn’t have changed a thing in him, and yet seeing the ruffian acting with such a refined and elegant air to him struck a chord inside that made him question his hatred in the first place. Dancing with Summi on such an intimate level while he was dressed to the nines and acting so uncharacteristically caused him to even wonder how he could loathe such a loving and (G.H would never admit this out loud) attractive creature. By the end of the night it was as if some kind of eye-opening light had fallen on Summi and he was a brand new person, especially when the police chief found drawings of him in Summi’s dingy apartment.

Summi tried to focus on the show, but he could feel eyes boring into him. He wasn’t sure whether to say something, or to just wait and see if he would stop. He chose to wait and eventually, after the eyes did stop, Summi looked over at him. His real skin, so tan and clear, had been replaced by gray and white makeup. His hair had gone back to its matted, ratty state, and was in need of a good brushing. But the same area on the face drew Summi’s attention; G.H’s eyes, like his own, were unique. But while his own were like day, G.H.’s was night. His were the twilight, soft and clear, and in them he could see stars, glittering and shining. Constellations even, swirling around to form shapes to show emotions. It was the colors he found to be beautiful, indigo and dark navy, as well as warm violet. Though an artist, he knew him, nor anyone else could recreate G.H.’s eyes. Not in a million years could a camera capture it perfectly. Some sort of miracles, those eyes of his. He turned back to the cartoon, blushing furiously.

After awhile, the medicine took hold and Summi fell asleep. It took a half an hour, but eventually G.H. noticed. Summi looked so peaceful.

“Stop being so cute, you little ingrate…” G.H. whispered in growl. He looked around the house, like he was afraid someone else was in there with him. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him… With cat-like reflexes, he snuck over and carefully picked up the sleeping man, holding him in his arms, blanket falling over the side and pooling on the floor. With most of the blanket having fallen off, Summi shivered and immediately cuddled to the nearest heat source, which in this case was G.H. The rich man thought he was going to faint.

He slowly slunk back to his spot on the couch, bringing up his legs so he was laying down, with the exception of his head and shoulders which were propped on a cushion. Summi lay on his chest, balled up and shivering a little. The big man wrapped his arms around him, pulling a small blanket over them. Summi quickly stopped shivering, but kept snuggling closer, putting his head on the shoulder of his wealthy counterpart, gripping the man’s t-shirt with a tiny fist. G.H. was blushing uncontrollably now and smiling a bit idiotically. He nuzzled the small man’s hair, reveling in the scent. He cuddled and hugged and even kissed Summi, taking advantage of the deep, medicine-induced slumber. Then mentally slapped himself. What are you doing man?! You look like a weakling cuddling to him and being all mushy. You hate him! His stubborn arrogance and disrespect for everything you stand for is a total turn-off! Man up and grow a pair! his mental boot camp officer yelled at him.

He mused it over and eventually agreed with his inner conscience, a flare of hate burning inside him—which was immediately put out when Summi started mumbling in his sleep.

“G.H…love…you...” he mumbled, and G.H. thought he might die. He wondered if Summi had left out some words, and if he didn’t, if he had any control over his dream. All of this made his head hurt. He returned Summi to his spot, re-piling all the blankets and rested in his own spot, eventually drifting off.

Summi was one hell of an actor.

Summi payed close attention, listening for sounds and movements. Only when he was sure the other was asleep did he dare open his eyes, cracking them open ever so slightly to make sure it was clear. After a minute, he tested to see how deep a sleeper G.H. was. He slept like a rock, definitely not easily awoken. Even still, he was very careful. He crawled over, dragging the blankets with him, and settled himself happily in G.H.’s lap, sharing his blanket even. He had intended to stay there for only a minute, but the medication started tugging drowsy thoughts into his mind, and in no time at all, he was out cold.

When G.H. woke up to find Summi curled up with him, he hit the mental panic button—meaning he flipped out and threw Summi off him with an unmanly squeal-shriek-squeak-type noise in surprise. Summi landed painfully on his butt, cracking his head on the coffee table. “Ow, you little shit, what the hell was that for?!” he swore, ignoring the rule he had been told time and time again about cursing in his house.

“You were curled up _on my lap_ , sleeping like an infant!” G.H. shouted, still in shock because he knew he had put Summi back before passing out.

Summi, rubbing his sore skull and looking for a way to dodge the issue, looked up at G.H. and snickered.“Your face is like a fucking cherry! I didn’t know it was even possible for someone’s face to be that red!” he laughed. “Shut the hell up, you damn idiot!” G.H.hissed, hating himself for displaying such ridiculous amounts of emotion in such an obvious format.

“Oh no, the big bad policeman is gonna get me! Oh God that sounds so wrong out of context!” Summi burst into laughter.

“What are you talking—” G.H. started to say, then took that sentence out of context.   _“Oh no, the big bad policeman is gonna get me!”_   The sentence wouldn't stop repeating itself in his mind, always in Summi’s voice. Of course imagination got a hold of it and Summi’s voice turned more… let’s just say G.H. had _too_ vivid an imagination.

While G.H. grew a darker shade of red, Summi was still laughing too much to notice. “Okay, settle down before you hurt yourself, you clumsy little shit.” He kicked the giggling one in the side with his toe. “Abuse! Abusive hate-friend! Call the poli— oh wait. Well, I’m done for,” Summi shrugged. G.H. rolled his eyes. “Was that supposed a joke?”

“A very bad attempt at one, yes.” Summi hopped up and walked back to his original spot on the couch, limping a little from the fall and the kick. He carefully sat down, grabbing the remote from the table and flipping through T.V. stations. It took him a couple minutes of channel surfing, but eventually settled on a show that was one of his favorites.

“Summi, what the hell is this show you’re forcing me to watch?” G.H. muttered.

“ _Cake Boss_. It’s where people order really outrageous cakes and they have to try to make them. The results are amazing. Always,” Summi said, obviously very enraptured with the show.

“What do you mean by outrageous?”

“I mean like cakes that defy physics. They did it once. And I think they even made a cake with a fish tank with tropical fish in it.”

“You’re kidding, people order and make that kind of stuff?” G.H. didn't seem to understand.

“Wouldn't you if you had the opportunity? I would, I just wonder what kind of cake I’d want inside, like blue velvet with golden raspberries and Irish Cream icing… nah, that wouldn't be a good combination of flavors…” Summi went on, getting lost in thought.

G.H. was actually quite amazed at the man’s knowledge of cake, and at flavor combinations.

“... But it doesn't matter, that kind of stuff is out of my reach,” he was finishing with a shrug. “Just like I’ll never get a record label or sell any art. The world just kinda hates me I guess. Gave high life to the mighty and the low life to the strong,” he shrugged again. G.H. just grunted.

The rest of the day continued like this until Summi’s stomach started to growl with unholy ferocity.

“When was the last time you ate, a year ago?” G.H. questioned, having been quite startled at the sudden sound.

“At the party, but before that.. two days,give or take.” Summi lifted up his shirt, revealing a caved-in stomach, the ripples of ribs all too prominent. “Yup, gut says three days since last meal,” he said, after his stomach rumbled again. G.H. immediately took back what he thought last night about Summi being chubby. Without another word, he got up and went to the kitchen and started preparing a meal for both of them. In the meantime, he threw Summi a can of Pringles.

“Eat these until I’m done with the food.” The contents of the can were quickly demolished.

Summi groaned for the next hour, complaining of hunger and the torturing smell of cooking food. “C’mon, just give me some Goldfish crackers or more Pringles or something!” he whined.

“No! The food is nearly done! Hold your damn horses!” Summi went and sat at the table, waiting impatiently. After another few minutes, G.H. announced the completion of the meal. Within a couple more minutes, a large steak, a decent-sized basket of bread rolls, a salad, a couple of baked potatoes, and even some grilled chicken was set before him, along with a mound of fries and onion strings, steak sauce, butter, ketchup, and everything else he could need following, the surface of the table invisible under all the dishes.

Summi thought he was going to cry.

Every dish sat in front of Summi was empty in no time, the only thing left behind being bones. G.H. stared, unable to believe such a tiny man could be able to eat so much. In no time, Summi was finished, only two and a half bread rolls and two fries left in his wake. Summi threw his head back with a groan, having pushed the limit and eaten himself sick.

“I… regret… nothing,” he said dramatically. G.H. shook his head.

“You’d think you’d never eat again, you idiot, why the fuck would you even attempt to consume that much food at once?”

“I let my gut think for me, because for all it knows, I might _not_  eat again,” he mumbled, reaching for the other half of the roll, only to have his hand smacked away.

G.H. continued to growl and mumble as he cleaned up the mess, Summi joining a few minutes later.

“Go sit down before you get sick and make a bigger mess dammit!” G.H. barked. Summi shook his head.

“I may be a pig, but I’m not an ingrate.” G.H. froze. He had used the same word to describe him when he thought Summi was asleep.

“Wait, what did you—”

“Hey, the sooner we finish, the sooner I can sit down and rest, so stop spouting bull and help me,” Summi cut in nervously. G.H. tried to shrug it off.

They finished in no time at all, and Summi scurried to the couch as soon as he was done, curling up into a ball and moaning in pain.

“You twat, what in the world goes on in your head, I’ll never know. I can’t see how in the world you thought eating all that food was a good idea, you’re going to be sick as a dog for a while. Dumb-ass,” G.H. murmured just loudly enough for Summi to hear.

“You know, it’s strange… normally when we’re out in public, ugh… you always yell at me… but now you’re like a mouse…” Summi grumbled.

“I see no reason to yell indoors at a sick, pitiful man who is a complete buffoon,” he mumbled.

“Well I wish you would at least speak up, I can barely hear a damn thing you’re saying,” Summi said groggily. G.H. resisted to yell at him at the top of his lungs, and finished the dishes growling.

“Okay you lazy bag of rotting horse shit, move over, it’s _my_ couch,” G.H. said, pushing Summi to one end of the couch.

“You’re the bag of horse shit…ugh…” Summi grumbled into the arm of the couch. For the next couple hours, with the occasional groan from Summi, they watched the television together in boredom, not arguing or fighting, but just sitting in silence. G.H. got up from time to time to do things, and Summi watched him walk off curiously, but didn't question it.

At about 10 o’clock, G.H. prodded Summi, who was watching T.V. still, completely oblivious.

“Hey dirt bag, are you feeling less horrible? I dried your clothes and shit,” he said, motioning his thumb to a basket of freshly dried and folded clothes.

“Yeah, I’m better… and thanks, I guess…” Summi said, at bit shocked that G.H. had been kind enough to do that for him.

“Yeah, you better be thankful. Go change into pajamas, I guess you’re sleeping here tonight,” G.H. blushed a bit. Summi dragged himself off the couch, swiping the t-shirt and sweatpants that were sitting on the very top of the mound and went and got changed.

G.H. led him down the twisting hallways to a guest bedroom. “My room is just three doors down on the opposite side of the hallway if you need me. Don’t need me,” he growled and left the room, shutting the door roughly.

Summi sighed and looked around the room, crawling under the big plush blankets of the fluffy mattress. He passed out almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Three doors down on the opposite side of the hallway, G.H. tossed and turned completely unable to sleep for some reason.  This was ridiculous. He should be able to fall asleep in no time. But here he was, under pounds of fabric shivering because he was freezing cold. He wondered if the entire house was like this.

He got up and stumbled around in the dark, and dear God it was fucking cold in this house. He went through all the rooms and it was the same thing. Except for one room. One. Fucking. Room. And dear God, why not make it his enemy’s room. Thanks world.

He face-palmed and sat on the floor next to the bed. He quickly realized how frigging uncomfortable the floor was. He silently crawled up into the bed and, keeping a safe two feet away from Summi, curled up next to the warmth of the man’s body.

* * *

 

Summi woke up feeling comfortably warm, completely satisfied, and wait what the hell, why was this bear of a man cuddling to him? What the actual fuck? Dear God he was warm though. He slowly turned fully around, trying not to wake the hibernating creature who currently had his gargantuan arms locked around his waist. He might as well go the fuck back to sleep and see if he’s still there when he next woke up.

G.H. woke up and looked down. Little Summi was buried to his cheeks in G.H.’s shirt. Little fists clenched the shirt and oh, sweet mother of God he was doing that cute mumbling thing again. Dear God, why on the name of all that is good and sacred did You make his enemy the cutest goddamn creature on the face of the fucking planet?

Wait, was G.H. even awake? Or was he still asleep? He pinched himself way harder than necessary.

“Fuck!” he seethed, and Summi jolted awake, confused. What the hell? Had they been snuggling? Like, snuggling? _Together?_   G.H. however, had found a fault in his plan. He had found on more than one occasion that he could still feel pain in his dreams. So actually, this didn’t solve anything. So he did the only other thing he could think of.

“Summi, am I dreaming right now?” G.H. asked, holding Summi by the shoulders.

Summi was smirking internally at this great opportunity for a prank, and decided to learn some new information. Summi smiled warmly at G.H. and stroked his non-painted face with his thumb.

“Hey…” he said in a sleepy morning voice. G.H.’s jaw dropped. Then his eyes seemed to soften a little.

“Still dreaming…” he mumbled and pulled Summi closer, much to the little one's surprise. With a smile, the police official rolled over and pulled Summi on top of him.

Summi chuckled happily. “Hey! Jeez G.H. …” he said and stared lovingly down at the bigger man. This wasn't entirely uncomfortable but he really wanted to see how long he could keep this up. He didn't expect G.H. to sweetly kiss his cheeks, rubbing their noses together and being so uncharacteristically sweet. Summi liked it, something else he didn't expect. When he laughed this time, it was from the heart. G.H. was laughing too, and it was a deep rumble like from some kind of beast, but it was friendly and warm.

G.H. pulled Summi to him once more, and kissed his head.

“I love you, as much as it pains me to admit,” he murmured, and Summi was sent spiraling into shock. He…what?

Oh my shit.

Oh. My. Shit.

 _Oh_.

 _My_.

 _Shit_.

“You… you what?” Summi asked nervously, smiling in hopes he had heard wrong.

“I said… I love you.” G.H. blushed.

Summi smiled, and for the sake of the prank, he softly said, “I love you too.” The weirdest thing was, he didn't feel like he was lying when he said it, and the words came to him unexpectedly easily, and the smile he gave when he said it felt just as natural.

G.H.’s eyes lit up. “Well, I’m sure it’s a dream now, real Summi would never say that,” he growled happily, and planted the softest of kisses on Summi’s cheek. Summi felt like he was paralyzed, like his voice box and tongue and whatever the hell else he used to talk just kinda disappeared or some shit. But his veins seemed to be working just fine, because all the blood rushed to his face like it did when he hung upside down from the monkey bars when he was little.

G.H. thought this was adorable when he blushed, like he was trying to disguise himself as a tomato.

“Not like I would say this to real you, but honest to God you’re so cute when your face gets red like that,” he grinned wide.

Okay, Summi had gathered enough info, and this prank was getting a bit out of hand. Maybe he could trick G.H. into believing this was a dream still. A little 1-watt light bulb went on in his mind.

“Hey, G.H., I’m thirsty, can you get me some water? I don’t know my way around this labyrinth of a house of yours, and I’ll probably get lost.” He gave the bigger man an innocent smile.

“Of course, anything for you.” The bear man picked Summi up like he weighed nothing and got up, laying Summi back in bed with a kiss to the forehead. “Be right back.”

As soon as he left, Summi rolled over and pretended like he had been asleep the entire time. G.H. came back with a glass of water and nudged Summi gently. “I’ve got your water, Summi,” he mumbled.

“What the fuck’re you talkin' about dipshit?” he said sleepily, rolling over slowly and stretching. G.H. looked very confused.

“You were sleepwalking. I woke up to find you laying here. You mumbled something about getting a glass of water then sat up and wandered off. I tried to wake you up, but it seems as though you go deaf when you sleep and you walked off,” Summi explained, pausing to yawn a couple times.

“... Ah, sleepwalking then.” G.H. seemed like he didn't know what to say, the “dream” still very fresh in his mind because of how real it had seemed to him. Probably because it was real.

“Yeah, you must a' sleep-walked here in the middle of the night too. You should probably ask a doctor about that. Who knows what you can do when asleep, for all you know you could become a sleepwalking mass-murderer. And I don’t really want to die, I’m too pretty to die,” Summi scoffed.

“Oh, will you just shut up? Jesus fucking Christ, do you ever shut up?! I heard you talking in your sleep before I went to bed! ‘Oh Marquise, Marquise, where for art thou Marquise?’ I’m not even joking, you actually said that!” G.H. was positively furious, a little jealousy boiling in him, even if Summi didn't actually say those things. Okay a lot of jealousy. “God, you need to _get_. O _ver_. _Her_. She’s never coming back, she’s dead! I’m the one who found her body!” Oh fuck he was not supposed to say that, Summi wasn’t supposed to know oh God, oh God...

The look Summi gave him could kill puppies. And kittens. And all other tiny cute fluffy baby creatures.

“....She’s what?” he pretty much whispered, the tears welling up. He looked like he was trying to process this.

“Oh shit…” G.H. looked away with a sigh as he pushed his hair back. “She’s dead. Or rather, murdered. It’s an ongoing case. We didn't want to tell you until we found her killer. I’m…I’m sorry,” he sighed. “She was dead when we found her. She…she had a note for you in her hand. We wanted—”

“Give me the goddamn note this second or I swear I will destroy everything you love,” Summi growled, and he looked so lethal in that moment, G.H. wouldn't put it past him. It wasn't like G.H. had a lot of things he loved, but Summi would probably destroy everything in his way beforehand.

“Okay. It’s being held down at the station. I’m the only one with access to it. I’ll go and get it and—”

“I’m going with you,” he interrupted. He looked dead-set, and G.H. knew there was no way to sway him.

“Okay, okay. Let’s get in the car, we’ll go right now,” G.H. said, trying to calm the raging man. Summi stomped quickly through the house, letting out and annoyed yell every time he made a wrong turn until he found the front door and threw it open. G.H. heard the enraged slam of the car door before he was even remotely close to the front door. G.H. quickly grabbed his keys and went outside in his bed clothes, and was honestly pretty nervous of what Summi might do.

He started the car and they drove silently to the police station. There was an aura around Summi composed of slight anger, curiosity, and sadness. The most prominent feeling however, was rage. There was so much permeating around him and it was so suffocating that G.H. became slightly frightened. They pulled in and Summi immediately hopped out and waited for G.H. to lead him to the note.

G.H. walked in and his comrades seemed surprised that he wasn't in uniform and here on one of his days off. G.H. nodded a nervous greeting and quickly led Summi back into the evidence vault. G.H. unlocked it, flipped the light on, and stepped inside, looking through shelves packed with boxes of evidence from hundreds of cases from over the years.

He went through, zig-zagging through the aisles until he found what he was looking for and pulled it off the shelf. “Here. In here. It has never been opened. I made sure of that,” G.H. said, handing Summi the dusty shoe-box-like case.

Summi stopped for a moment and just stared at the box in his hands. He slowly removed the lid, and G.H. could swear he was trembling. He stared down at the lonely envelope; It was the only object in the box. He pulled it out and looked at the letter, which was slightly yellowed and had “Summi” written on it in cursive. There were small drops of deep maroon-rust-colored liquid on it that had long since dried. Summi gulped noisily as his eyes rolled across the spots.

He ran his finger under the flap, opening it with the utmost care. He delicately pulled out the single piece of paper it held and unfolded it.

_“Dear Summi…_

_I’m sorry for all the pain I caused you. I agreed to 8e your girlfriend and then treated you like a pest. I know you loved me dearly and that you would've done anything for me, and I ignored you most of the time. I just want you to know that I didn't mean to hurt you. I was just so used to having my walls painst8kingly high and so accustomed to men hurting me that I decided I would never trust another man nor show them any emotion, 8oyfriend or not._

_8ut I really loved you, I really, truly did. 8ut I was too stubborn to show it. I swear to God I honestly loved you. And I’m sorry I left without a good8ye, 8ut there’s someone tailing me. They want me dead and I think they’re a8out to catch up with me. They will not stop until they have the pleasure of wringing my neck, and I think they've improved their skills from when I last dealt with them. It’s over for me._

_I don’t know if this letter will ever even get to you. For all I know it could 8e destroyed or lost for eternity. 8ut hey, what the hell. Might as well try. And 8a8y, if you do get this and I’m t8king a dirt nap, I don’t want you to cry for me. I had a good life and you were honest to God the 8est 8oyfriend I ever had. You never gave up trying to m8ke me happy no matter how 8itchy I was. I always came first, I was always your first and top priority. And I couldn't ask for anything more._

_8ut really, don’t cry if I’m gone. The last thing I want is for you to 8e so88ing over a 8itch like me. I want you to smile. I died happy, and I died thinking of everything you did for me._

_I love you, Summi._

_-Mar-Mar”_  

Summi was shaking and his teeth were locked together in a desperate effort not to cry. He turned the paper over and he let out a shakily, very audible gasp. On the back, in Marquise’s handwriting, were the lyrics to _America’s Suitehearts_ by Fall Out Boy. Her and Summi’s song. He fell to his knees and even though he tried not to cry, tears unwillingly spilled over and ran down his cheeks and he looked like he was in pain with the effort of trying not to cry.

But, strong as he was, he wasn't strong enough, and the effect of waiting to hear something from a girl who had been dead for all of three months caught up to him and he could feel his chest caving in and dear God it was the most painful thing he ever felt and he screamed.

The pain echoed and the sound chased itself around the entire room, the entire building and everything was alive with the sound. It was like a wolf howling in a cave, only there was so much pain in Summi’s cry, that when the sound repeated, the pain repeated too. It was so horrible that guilt swept over G.H. and it was paralyzing.

He knelt down next to Summi and put a hand on his back. “I’m sorry for waiting so long… I was trying to… to protect you. I know that’s hard to believe, but I swear, I was trying to keep you safe,” he said quietly, and frankly he wasn't sure if Summi heard him over his sobbing. Summi didn't respond.

Police were gathered outside the room and looked at G.H. questioningly, wondering what was going on. G.H. waved them away and grabbed the empty box and put it back on the shelf. He helped Summi stand up and picked the letter and the envelope off the floor, carefully folding it back up and closing the envelope flap, holding it out to Summi.

“Here, you can take it back with us,” G.H. said calmly and Summi looked at it, taking it and holding it to his chest, arms locked in an X over it. G.H. put an arm around the smaller and helped him walk back out to the car, opening the door for him and watching as Summi slid in and slumped down in the seat, sluggishly pulling the seat belt over himself. G.H. hopped in, and drove back to his house in silence, but this time it was made of pure despair.

They pulled up the driveway and Summi slid out of the car and waited by the door for G.H. to unlock it. When he did, he shuffled in and went to the couch, slumping face-down into the throw pillows with a small whimper. The rest of the day involved Summi not moving an inch, sobbing occasionally while G.H. made desperate attempts to cheer him up, if only slightly. This included turning on Cake Boss, offering Pringles, and making hot tea, loaded with sugar. Nothing worked.

He stayed this way until night, and stayed on the couch into the next morning. G.H. sat on the floor and fell asleep there, head resting on Summi’s hip. When he woke up the next morning, his ass hurt like a motherfucker, but Summi had rolled over and was now staring at the ceiling. He was dead silent, and it was the small rise and fall of his chest that alerted G.H. he was still alive.

His arms were still crossed over the letter, which he still held to his chest, but he looked better than he did yesterday.

“G.H.?” Summi said suddenly, and it scared the shit out of the guy on the floor. G.H. grunted sleepily like he didn't just piss himself.

“What is it?” he said, his growl back from the vacation it took yesterday.

 “I want to visit her grave. Can you please take me there?” Summi said in monotone. G.H. sat quietly for a moment.

“Sure.” G.H. exhaled loudly through his nose and got up. “Ow! Jesus fucking Christ, my ass hurts like a motherfucker, holy shit!” he growled, bending back until his spine popped and he let out a relieved sigh. Summi smirked.

“Your fault for sleeping on the floor, idiot.” G.H. cast him an unamused glare.

Summi’s mood had definitely improved, which relieved G.H. inside. He was very glad that Summi was better, even if it meant the resume of teasing.

Summi set the note down on the table and went to change clothes and shower and stuff, as did G.H. Once they were dressed, Summi found some paper and a pencil and wrote something down, front and back, and searched until he found an envelope. He folded it and put it in, writing something on the front and stuffing it in his pocket. “Okay, let’s go,” he said with a tired smile.

They got into the car and, first stopping by the flower shop, made their way to a hilly cemetery. _Locust Hill Cemetery and Morgue._ G.H. slowly drove through the paths and it felt like a boat going up and down on the waves. They went towards the back where graves were scarce, and they got out and went to a lonely headstone way out and apart from the others. Summi knelt down and put his hand on the cold stone.

_Marquise Serket_

_1986-2014_

_Cherished Daughter_

_Best Of Friends_

_She Left So Soon_

_And Met Her End._

_We’ll Hold Her Dear_

_For The Years Ahead_

_We’ll Keep Her Alive_

_Long After She’s Dead._

Summi rubbed the stone with a sad smile. “Hey Mar-Mar… You doing okay? Sorry I wasn't here sooner… I just found out yesterday… But it’s okay, I’m here now. I’m trying not to be sad like you said, but I cried all day yesterday… But I made sure I could smile again before I came to see you, because that’s what you wanted right? You wanted me to smile? I read your letter, it made its way to me, it wasn't destroyed or lost. I have it right here.” He pulled it out of his jacket pocket, cradling it in his hands.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter he had written and laid it on the grass, laying the flowers gently on top of them. He paused for a minute, then quietly hummed the tune to their song. He looked like he was about to cry, but he managed to stay strong this time. After he was done, he patted the stone. “Bye Mar, I love you too, y’know? I still do. I probably always will,” he whispered and kissed the stone, walking away.

He ran the letter he had written through his head. 

_“Dear Mar-Mar…_

_I’m sorry. I wish I could have protected you. I wish I could have broken the barriers you held up for so long. But in the end, you loved me, and that’s all I could hope for. You were probably one of the best things that have ever happened to me, and I will never forget how much you meant to me. You were my world, but I’ll manage, because that’s probably what you would have wanted. But we’ll see each other again at some point, right? I can’t wait until then, but I’ll keep your memory alive until then. I swear._

_I wanted to just kinda reply to your letter. I wish you had told me you were in trouble, I could have helped. Well, I think I could anyways, I’d have to know what kind of situation it was first. But still._

_I never ‘put up with you’, I enjoyed being with you. Sometimes you were colder than others, but I still liked being with you anyways. You could have beat me black and blue every other day, and I wouldn't love you any less. I fell in love with who you really are, it would've taken a lot to change how I felt about you. It still would. I love you, all of you Marquise Spinneret Mindfang Serket._

_I have no idea why I’m writing a letter to a person who’s buried six feet under ground. I guess I just thought it might be polite. You know how I am with the ladies. Gotta treat ‘em right, y’know? If a girl writes you a letter, she better get a goddamn hand-written reply._

_I’ll love you forever_

_I’ll like you for always_

_As long as I’m living_

_My Mar-Mar you’ll be._

_-Summi”_

Summi walked back to the car, still smiling softly, and he felt like a huge weight had been lifted. After obsessing over her whereabouts for three months he now knew where she was. He knew she would be okay. And that’s all he could ever ask for, really.

When the two got into the car, Summi turned his attention to G.H., who looked back questioningly.

“I appreciate you trying to protect me. That was very kind of you and I can see why you did it. Thank you G.H., for _caring_ about me,” Summi said, emphasizing ‘caring’ with an amused grin. He knew how much it irked G.H. when someone pointed out how he was actually a softie.

“Oh shut up you ignorant fool,” G.H. growled, throwing the car into drive. They got out of the cemetery and drove home in silence, Summi staring out the window with a melancholy grin and G.H. sternly looking at the road. For the rest of the night, both kept silent, almost like a vigil, and only nodded or shook their heads.

No fighting.

No shouting.

No cursing.

  Just blissful silence. And when it was late, Summi went to the guest room and G.H. went to his room. Two hours later, G.H. got up and went to Summi’s room, where he was sound asleep, and curled up with him. They both slept soundly through the night.

* * *

In the following days until the bonfire party, Summi and G.H. had a routine of sorts; Summi would wake up every morning to G.H. sleeping in his bed with him, which he actually got used to pretty quickly, in which Summi would punch or kick G.H. into consciousness. They would argue all the way to the kitchen, eat breakfast, then either watch television or play against each other on the old Atari. Summi usually won at  _Donkey Kong_ , but G.H. would kick his ass at  _Q*bert_ .

They would watch T.V. lazily after lunch, sometimes nodding off and taking a nap, until it was time for dinner. After dinner they would argue over various things while doing chores, watch a movie or two, then head to their different bedrooms, in which G.H. would wait for a couple hours then head off into Summi’s room.

However, over the days the fights became less intense and lost some of it’s meaning. By the time Monday rolled around, there was barely one argument a day. They seemed fine with each other and the fact that they were existence, and they adjusted to each others’ presence.

Odd as it was, they actually seemed pretty content with each other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading, and if you're interested in my future works or have any suggestions/requests, please inbox me on AO3 or on tumblr at http://psychologicalbantering.tumblr.com/.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading, and if you're interested in my future works or have any suggestions/requests, please inbox me on AO3 or on tumblr at http://psychologicalbantering.tumblr.com/
> 
> Music used: Dance, Dance by Fall Out Boy, Everytime We Touch by Cascada, and True Love by P!nk, featuring Lily Allen.


End file.
